Yuko kept walking through the cold sewer.
Each step produced a sickening squelch beneath his boots. The stench of damp rot mixed with the low hum echoing through the walls, turning the air heavy and suffocating. It was humid. Thick. And it smelled of decaying flesh.
Animal remains…
Elf corpses…
Yuko clenched his teeth and controlled his breathing to keep himself from throwing up. The ground was stained with dried, darkened blood.
Then—
He noticed a figure lying ahead.
A face resembling a goat.
A body shaped like a human.
The creature pressed one hand against a deep wound in his abdomen while pointing a trembling sword at Yuko with the other.
The goat-man spoke with strained breath, trying to sound threatening despite his weakness.
— Stay… away from me.
Yuko stopped. He slowly crouched down, lowering himself to eye level.
He spoke calmly but cautiously.
— Relax.
— Tell me what happened here.
The goat-man clenched his teeth, answering without hiding his hatred.
— I don't tell anything… to a Ritualist.
Yuko frowned slightly.
— How did you know I'm a Ritualist?
The goat-man answered coldly.
— Your scent.
Yuko blinked and awkwardly sniffed himself.
— I don't smell anything.
The goat-man rolled his eyes in clear disdain.
— The scent of sin.
— The scent of corpses.
— All of you have it.
Yuko let out a sigh and replied mockingly.
— You really are a stubborn goat.
The goat-man's gaze sharpened.
Yuko realized what he had just said. He paused for a second—
Then burst into laughter.
The goat-man shook his head in annoyance.
— You're not funny.
— Ever thought about becoming a clown?
Yuko cleared his throat and looked at the wound again.
— Sorry.
— I didn't mean it like that.
The goat-man hesitated for a moment. His eyes narrowed slightly.
— You're… strange.
— Ritualists don't usually talk. They cut. They kill.
Yuko shrugged casually.
— What's strange about that?
Silence lingered between them.
The goat-man spoke again, tired but steady.
— My name is Jax.
Yuko nodded slightly.
— Jax?
Jax confirmed with a small movement of his head.
— Yes.
— Your name?
Yuko answered naturally.
— Yuko.
A faint smirk formed on Jax's lips.
— Your name sounds like something an old fool on the brink of death would have.
Yuko dramatically placed a hand over his chest.
— Oh, come on… you too?
Jax's lips twitched despite himself.
— A Ritualist-human… yet you talk like a child.
Yuko tilted his head.
— What's that supposed to mean, "Ritualist human"?
— You said it like I'm some kind of hybrid.
Jax replied in a composed tone.
— You are.
— Not fully human. Not fully something else either.
Yuko fell silent.
He glanced around, gathered a few broken wooden pieces, and lit a small fire. Then he picked up a sword that had fallen from a dead elf's hand and placed it into the flames.
Jax eyed him suspiciously.
— What are you doing?
Yuko answered calmly.
— I'm stopping the bleeding.
— I don't have medical supplies.
Jax gave a faint, almost amused laugh.
— You're helping me?
— I'm one of the ones who enslave humans.
Yuko looked up at him seriously.
— Not all of you treat them badly… right?
Jax's expression shifted for a brief second.
— Some give their slaves names.
— Some treat them properly.
— They live. They work.
— But they are still slaves.
The metal in the fire turned red.
Yuko spoke firmly.
— Bite down.
He pressed the heated blade against the wound.
A sharp hissing sound echoed through the sewer.
Jax gritted his teeth, forcing the pain down.
— Idiot Ritualist…
— Couldn't you be gentler?
Yuko gave a faint smile.
— For now, staying alive is enough... right jax?
In the darkness of the sewer, two beings who should have been enemies…
Spoke like ordinary strangers.
But this moment would become something much heavier in the future.
Chapter 8 – End